A Scottish Lullaby
by TheLittleLuPone
Summary: Dr. Clarkson stops by to check on his favorite nurse, the mourning Isobel Crawley. He finds her worse off then he could have imagined and wishes he could take away her grief. Rating may change as story continues...
1. Chapter 1

Dr. Richard Clarkson stood on the stoop of Crawley House with a bouquet of bright flowers in one hand, hoping their vibrancy would leak into the life of his favorite nurse. His other hand rested, balled in a fist, against the rich mahogany of the door. He took a deep breath and raised his fist only to lower it again, knocking three times, before stepping back and second guessing himself. It was of questionable propriety to stop by unannounced, but the doctor was sure it was unacceptable in any case to stop by unannounced at the home of a single, mourning woman. The more he thought about it, the more his visit began to feel like a mistake. He turned to leave, releasing another long breath in an attempt to expel his troubles.

The door squeaked and a timid voice came from the crack, "Dr. Clarkson?"

Instead of hearing the cold, curt voice of Mr. Mosley, the soothing diction of Isobel Crawley greeted him instead. That voice always brought a smile to his face, even when it's proper accent was like this, sloppy with sadness. He turned around to face her and saw red-rimmed eyes peeking out from behind the cracked door. Her sandy blonde hair had fallen from a mediocre attempt at a pinned-back look, and she was still in her robe as the afternoon sun lit up her features for, what he guessed by the closed curtains, was the first time that day.

"Ah, Good Afternoon Mrs. Crawley. I was on my way home from the hospital and thought I would stop by to make sure you were feeling quite all right,"

"Thank you," she squeaked softly, wiping her cheeks, and opening the door a little wider to invite him in, "Please come in,"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose. I just thought I'd bring you these as a token of my condolences," he offered the flowers to her with an extended arm.

"They're beautiful," she whispered, attempting a smile that fell short half-way. "Let me just put them in water,"

She opened the door wider and turned to walk down the hall, leaving her guest on the stoop. Assuming this was in invitation in, Dr. Clarkson followed, shutting the door behind him. The house was darker than he had ever seen it. The newly installed electricity was turned off, and there were no lamps lit. The only light in the home were the rays that escaped through the sheer curtains.

"I was unaware that today was Mosley's day off," he attempted to make small talk.

"Everyday is Mr. Mosley's day off. I gave him a vacation of sorts until his services were required again, and that time has not come yet," her tone turned snippy, but Richard was not offended. She deserved to be angry, and if he could help by serving as a target for her anger at life, then he felt honored.

She opened cabinet after cabinet looking in vain for a vase, slamming the doors as she went. Richard scanned the dark room with his eyes. Expensive china was piled up on the counter-top, dirty and stained with old food. "I assume you've let Mrs. Bird go as well?" he questioned softly.

"Why might you think that Doctor?" she said sarcastically, slamming another drawer. She leaned over the counter with both hands pushed hard against the cool surface and took a deep breath. Finally turning to face him she released more of her anger on the innocent loving man before her. "This is not the time to assess my lifestyle Dr. Clarkson, so if you've quite satisfied your desire to poke your nose into the pathetic life of a widowed woman mourning her only child, perhaps it's time for you to leave!" her tone rose with each word until she was yelling.

"I don't think your life is pathetic Isobel," her Christian name slipped through. He rarely addressed her this intimately outside of his dreams.

"Have the things you've seen not proved that? Or should I bring you into the drawing-room to see the settee I've been sleeping on? Or-Or perhaps if I told you that I've worn this robe for a week. Perhaps then you would be satisfied, then you would leave," her voice broke and fresh tears were rolling down her cheeks. She brought her lower lip between her teeth to stifle her sobs, as she held his gaze.

The room was silent as they stared into each other's eyes, the tension swimming in the air around them.

He shook his head slowly as he crossed the room to her, taking her hand in his. "Isobel," he used her name again, deciding that if there was line between them it had already been crossed, "You are the strongest woman I have ever known," he whispered, putting his other hand under her chin to look into her eyes.

She continued crying, as she shook her head, "No, I'm weak. I'm so weak," she whimpered.

He pulled her into a warm embrace, letting her tears stain his jacket. He had both arms wrapped around her as he rocked her softly back and forth.

"It's alright, I'm here. You can tell me," he cooed, his heart breaking for her. She was the only woman he had ever cared for this deeply, and seeing her like this made him angry. Angry at fate or the God that brought this upon the woman he loved.

Loved. _Was that the word for this?_ he wondered. Another sob broke as the woman in his arms wrapped her shaky hands around him tightly. _Yes, of course it was._

"Tell me Isobel, I'll listen," he said, stroking her hair.

"I'm- I'm just so- so tired," she let out between sobs.

He released her momentarily to crouch down and wrap an arm around the backside of her wobbly knees, putting the other around her waist, and scooping her into his arms gently. She clung to him, silently, knowing how improper this was but not caring for a second.

He carried her into the drawing-room, pushing on the wood of the door lightly to reveal the dimly lit, messy room. Blankets were piled atop the settee and old crusted-over tea cups sat upturned on the table in the middle of the room. He let her slide out of his arms onto the mess of quilts and throws. She automatically curled into a small ball, her sobs slowing.

He squatted beside her, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear, before cupping her cheek "Sleep now, my love," He stared into her red-rimmed warm chocolate eyes. She nodded weakly, squeezing her eyes shut. He ran the pad of his thumb over her smooth cheek and stood up to leave.

She snapped up quickly, watching him walk towards the door, "Don't go," she whispered weakly, slightly embarrassed at her request. He complied, coming back over to her and sitting on one end of the settee. She laid her head back down, this time in his lap as he began to run his fingers through her hair.

"You called me 'your love' Richard," she sleepily half-questioned.

Instead of answering he began to sing a soft song in his deep smooth voice, "O, my love is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June. O, my love is like a melody..." It was an old Scottish song his mother had lulled him to sleep with as a child.

She closed her eyes and drifted into the first peaceful sleep she had known in weeks. Richard stared at the sleeping woman in his lap, she looked so peaceful and calm. Her beauty was captivating and he studied her every feature. The natural pink of her cheeks showing how she felt about this improper encounter, the lines around her eyes proving her years of strength, her soft curls that fell around her face and into his lap, and her plump crimson lips. He sat and wondered, wondered about her grief, wishing he could take it away. Wondered about those plump crimson lips, wishing he could lean down and capture them. And wondered if she would still want this intimacy they were sharing when she awoke.

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**Don't worry, there's more to come for them! Stay in touch for chapter two. Please review with your compliments and complaints. All characters and settings are owned by Julian Fellows.**


	2. Chapter 2

She was warm. That was the first thing Isobel noticed upon waking, the second being that the source of her warmth was missing. She sat up slowly, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dimly lit room. The sitting room was much tidier than she remembered, and the lamps on either sideboard were lit. The door swung open as a humming Dr. Clarkson backed his way into the room, tray in hand. He set the tray on the sideboard, oblivious to Isobel's awakening. Pouring himself a cup of tea he continued to hum and Isobel felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It was the first genuine smile she could remember having since Matthew's accident.

"You're quite the nanny, Richard," she teased, announcing her presence.

"Oh!" he turned around, blushing slightly at his off-key humming "You have impeccable timing. Would you like a cup of tea?" he offered with a smile.

"I'd like that very much,"

"I trust you slept well? It was a solid four hours I'd say," his Scottish accent coming out much thicker as his nerves set in. He suddenly felt guilty for staying through her nap. He wondered if she would think he was imposing or forcing himself upon her, but he couldn't bring himself to let her wake alone.

She nodded her head, "Yes, quite well. Better than I've slept in a long while, actually," she began patting her undone hair, suddenly self-conscious having a man in her home this late at night, especially _this_ man. The man whose proposal she shot down out of fear. Fear of allowing herself the companion she yearned for the most, after so many years of comfortable loneliness. Fear of disappointing the man she cared for so deeply, the man whose idea of her was so far above reality.

"Thank you for staying," her compliment came out too fast, and she cursed her girlish nerves.

"Whatever you need, I'm here. I cannot begin to imagine what you're feeling,"

"Thank you Richard," she smiled again, well on her way to breaking a personal record.

He crossed to the settee, handing her the larger cup before taking a seat beside her. They took a few moments to enjoy each other's company in silence before Richard set his cup on the end table and turned to face Isobel.

"I hope you don't mind my staying. I know it isn't the most respectable thing, me staying the night here. Although, I wasn't asleep so perhaps it doesn't count," he laughed at his own joke, Isobel was taking it much more seriously however.

"I've done many an improper thing these past few weeks and this has been the one I cherish the most," she covered his hand with hers. He stared down at their pale fingers, intertwined atop the blue fabric, committing the sharp contrast to memory. She may only mean this as a friendly gesture, but he knew in his loneliest hour we would remember this as an intimate and cherished moment.

"I enjoy your company," she said plainly, looking at his downcast eyes.

"And I yours..." He said, pulling hid hand back. As much as he yearned for her touch, he couldn't escape the feeling that he was abusing her vulnerability. He adverted his gaze, hoping she would change the subject or fall asleep again so he could shamelessly and silently care for her.

"Very much so," she cupped his left cheek, tilting his head back towards her, hoping he would see all the things she couldn't say swimming in her eyes.

He shook his head and brought his hand up to hers. "Isobel...Isobel...Isobel," He stroked the back of her hand softly with his thumb, before pulling it down to his mouth, placing a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm so-"

"No," she covered his mouth with the tips of her fingers, "Don't apologize for any more of my mistakes. That day at the fair I knew exactly what you were offering and I was afraid to accept. I allowed you to apologize, when really I was the one at fault. I lied Richard, and I regret it...I'm sorry. But, if I could return to that day, I would say 'Yes, I do think about remarrying and to one man in particular," Richard closed his eyes and puckered his lips against her fingers in a soft kiss.

She slid her hand to the back of his head, to play in his hair and he opened his eyes. She seemed much closer than he had remembered, as if she had scooted leaned in while he had his eyes shut. She was close enough now that her expensive floral perfume was invading Richard's senses, and it's intoxication washed away his nerves. He placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, working his lips up her arm in a slow path with his soft lips. She watched him move upwards, pushing up the silky fabric of her sleeve as he went. When he had made it to her shoulder, he looked up into her eyes, close enough now to smell the tea on her warm breath.

She shook her head in permission and he leaned in, closing the space between them. Their lips met and Isobel melted. She was amazed by her own desire as she wrapped her arms around him, one hand playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. She ran her tongue across his bottom lip, begging for more, but he pulled away.

his breath was heavy, and he was shaking his head lightly, "Isobel, we can't. You're vulnerable and the last thing I want is to hurt you. I want this, I do, I just cou-" she pulled his head down to hers again, crashing their lips together. Her spontaneity surprised was as much of a surprise to herself as it was to him. She traced his lips with her tongue again, and this time he happily complied, parting his lips for her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Richard, please," she slid his hand up to the swell of her breast. She was desperate for him. Desperate to feel him. To be close to him. She had thought his warm soft lips would be enough, but once she had tasted them the flame inside her grew even hotter.

"No. I'm sorry," he whispered between kisses. She moaned as his words hit her neck and he sealed his answer with a kiss. He reluctantly moved his hand to safer territory, her lower back.

"Please," she pulled his head up from her neck to show him how badly she needed him in the form of a passionate kiss. She slid her tongue past his lips, tasting him and he sighed his approval. He wanted her so badly, and her begging was making his resistance even more difficult. He gave in and pulled her closer, leaning back against the pillows and taking her with him. He put all his energy into the kiss, exploring her mouth with an eager tongue. Thinking she had won she pulled both of his hands back to her breasts, using her own atop his to squeeze lightly.

He groaned and pulled away, "Isobel...we can't," she dove in for another kiss, but he pulled away after a peck, "I won't", she tried again, swooping to his neck with soft lips that were determined to earn his touch, "I won't ruin your virtue," he explained. She pulled back quickly, looking into his eyes questioningly before scooting back to her own side of the settee.

"Richard, it's too late for that. I'm not..." she stuttered, waving her dainty hands about, "I have been married Richard, let's not forget,"

"I am perfectly aware and okay with that dearest," he grabbed her hand from the air and cradled it in both of his, "but you mi' lady," she giggled and gave him a warm smile, "are the most unblemished natural wonder, and I would never forgive myself it I were to taint that beauty,"

"Oh, Richard," she felt her eyes begin to water, she leaned in to give him a long kiss, a hand on the back of his head to hold him tightly to her. "You are the most noble man and I love you for it," her blurry eyes locked on his.

He stared back at her, letting the sweet words sink in. She had said it...and more importantly she had meant it. "And I love you, and I want you to be sure of that before you give yourself to me. Isobel I want you to be my wife...more than anything," he held her face in his hand and leaned in for another slow passionate kiss.

When he pulled back he saw tears making their way down her cheeks, "Oh, Richard," was all she could muster, pulling herself closer to him to rest her head on his chest. They sat in silence, there tea forgotten and growing cold. His arms were a protective barrier around her, holding her tightly to him. She was content to stay this way forever, lying close to him in the silence of the night. But, being the constant caregiver, worries of Richard with a stiff back and impending long hours at the hospital were nagging her.

"Come on my love, let's go to bed," the thought of mustering up the energy to tackle a flight of stairs had seemed impossible the past few weeks, but for some reason with Richard here now, everything seemed easier. Granted, the wound on her heart would never quite heal, but having the doctor here with her seemed to dull the constant sting to a slight ache.

"Isobel, I'm not sure..." he trailed off, running his hands through his hair nervously.

"Richard, I have every intention of letting you be the noble courtier you so wish to be, so I intend only to sleep. Nothing more," she teased lazily, the exhaustion of countless tear-stained nights hitting her now.

"If your sure," he stuttered, rising to his feet.

"I though you didn't intend for me to wake alone? Was there an expiration date on that offer?" her jokes were all in good fun, as she grabbed his hand and led him to the stairs.

* * *

"Darling?" she whispered in the dark.

"Mmhhmm?" He grumbled his lethargic response and she turned around in his arms to face him. She laid a hand on his face, felling his stubble with the tips of her fingers.

"Earlier, when you said you wanted me as your wife..."

"Yes?"

"Well, was that a proposal?" her tone dropped and she was ashamed for asking such a forward question. She suddenly felt very much out of practice as far as courting went.

"Not quite, my dearest. Although we seem to be breaking many rules, there are still a few traditions I intent to follow, and in that respect I would prefer to have a ring worthy of your hand before I ask for that hand,"

"Oh, Richard, I don't require anything ornate. I would walk to court in my robe tonight to be your wife," she leaned in and pressed a warm, wet kiss to his lips. He felt precisely the same way, and the scandalous thought of a hasty, private marriage had crossed his mind multiple times that evening but he still couldn't escape the feeling that perhaps she was just in need of a friend during this hard time, and that things would change when her grieving ebbed.

She leaned into his face until they were sharing a pillow, and rubbed her nose against his in a light Eskimo kiss. "I love you so much," she whispered, pulling back to find herself reflected in his moonlit eyes.

"I love you too," he said with less conviction, the risk of her vulnerability and loneliness still weighing itself in his mind.

"You don't believe me..." she bit her bottom lip, holding back tears. He looked away, trying to decide whether to lie or to stay silent and watch her suffer. "Look at me," she used a hand to pull his face back to hers, "I love you," she said each syllable slow enough to ensure an impact, "and that will not change, because I have loved you far before Matthew passed, and I will love you for years to come. Please, Richard, you must always remember that,"

"Then I shall never forget," he made the promise to not only her, but himself as well. The doubts in his mind easing, but not completely silenced.

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**Trivial times for Dr. Clarkson and Nurse Crawley, but perhaps they'll work it out in the next chapter, or the next. Reviews are appreciated and adored.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**So sorry this took so long, I injured my hand last week so I just finished typing this one-handed. Go easy on me if it isn't the greatest.**

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The past few weeks had been relatively quiet. Richard's visits to Crawley House had become a part of his daily routine. He worked the day shift at the hospital and walked to Isobel's for dinner after the house calls were seen to. Many nights dinner would end in a soft lingering kiss at the door and a night of memories for each in their respective beds. But, there was the occasional evening where the couple's arguing about hospital matters or Richard's soothing of his love's tears would last far into the night. Isobel would insist he stay with her rather than take the long walk back to his cottage in the cold dark night, and he always followed her wishes, spending the night with his arms wrapped around him.

He dwelt on these nights as he walked into Crawley house as if it were his own home. He was hoping tonight would be another in which he could fall asleep with his arms around her. It was the most intimate thing he had ever known, and although he wouldn't admit it for fear of being too forward, he would give anything to make those nights a routine. He set his medical bag by the door and hung his coat and hat. He loosened his tie and followed the sound of running water up the stairs.

The bathroom door swung open and Isobel looked up from the tub, "Oh, you're here early. I haven't started the stew yet, are you hungry?" she pulled the bubbles toward her breasts in an attempt to conceal herself.

"My dearest, I can appreciate that which I cannot have, there's no need to cover yourself," he chuckled, leaning down to place a light kiss to his beloved's lips.

"It isn't that you can't have it, you just insist on denying yourself," she stuck her dainty foot out of the water to turn off the tap.

Richard eased himself onto the floor beside the tub, his back on the wall. He rolled up his right sleeve and reached the now free hand into the hot water to grab Isobel's hand. "And no, I'm not hungry. I'd much prefer to just sit and relax for a moment," he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, squeezing her submerged hand.

She looked over at him and shook her head at his ability to have such strict boundaries, but be this intimate at the same time. "Richard, would you mind terribly if I interrupted your relaxation to ask a favor?"

"Anything my love," he pulled her hand out of the water, placing a kiss to her glistening, wet knuckles.

She smiled at his sincerity, "Could you fetch my bath lotion and razor from the medicine cabinet?"

"Of..Course.." he shot her a questioning look but did as she asked anyway.

When he returned, she took the bath lotion and rubbed it onto her legs only to swipe it back off with a flick of the razor.

"You shave?" he asked

"Yes. Terribly middle class of me, right?"

"No, I don't mind. I've just never known of woman who shaved is all,"

"Well, I should hope not!" she giggled, "It was required of all nurses during the Boer War to prevent lice and infection. Then once I met Reginald he...well" she shook her head in embarrassment but pushed forward, determined to be open with him, "Reginald _appreciated _it in private,"

"As I'm sure I will as well," he leaned over the porcelain to give her another kiss, lacing his fingers in her wet hair. He pulled back, shaking the droplets from his hand. He leaned against the wall once more, turning his head to watch her graceful hands lather shampoo in her golden locks.

"What is that?" he asked like a curious child.

"Shampoo," she giggled at his ignorant question.

"No, my dearest, I'm not that daft. I meant what is in it. Does it contain lavender?"

"Yes, actually. Cousin Cora gave it to me as a gift. I never fancied lavender but I figure I might as well use it. How did you know that?"

"Your hair smells strongly of it, and you pillows seem to be coated in it," her only response was to pucker her lips and lean in, waiting for a kiss which he willingly gave her. "I'll get you a towel, my love," he left the room.

The words hit her hard, a ball of fire warming her to the core. _My love, _he had said it before, but the words were still so fresh. She smiled, he was her love too. She made an instant and dangerous decision. She stood up, biting back the fear and insecurities swirling in her head that insisted she hide behind something.

"Isobel, I couldn't find th-"he was frozen staring at her naked form, the bubbles sliding down her skin that was slightly pink from the water's heat. Richard dropped the towel as his eyes swept over her slowly from top to bottom. Her blonde hair was now a light brown and clung to her back and shoulders like vines on her tower of a body. Her breasts were small but firm, sitting high despite her years. The waist below them remained small from years of corsets. Her hips pushed out to match the swell of her breasts like a wave. The patch of blonde curls between her thighs were so light in color, they appeared transparent. Her long slender legs stretched below the porcelain of the tub and out of his view.

"Are you quite alright Richard?" she asked as if completely oblivious.

"Yes, it's just- you're- Isobel, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she blushed realizing how husky his voice had gotten. Richard walked to the bath with purpose, pulling her into his embrace to capture her lips in a passionate and needy kiss. Their tongues danced together as he cupped a breast in his hand, massaging her lightly for the first time. She moaned into his mouth, and the sound woke him from the spell Isobel had woven. He pulled back, and shook the water from his hands, looking down at his soaked shirt, and chuckling. "Why must you tempt me so you minx?"

"I'm sorry," she squeaked, batting her eyelashes, "I was under the impression that you were able to 'appreciate that which you cannot have,'"

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**I know this chapter was nothing but cute fluff, but those serious discussion that need to happen are coming next. Thanks so much for reading and hopefully the tornado I live in will slow down enough for me to get you the next chapter soon. **


	5. Chapter 5

She stood hovering over the tall stock pot. One hand on her hip, the other stirring their stew with a wooden spoon. She was wearing nothing but a shiny silk robe, another gift from Lady Cora. All of her focus was on the unpleasant task of not burning water, so when Richard's arms wrapped around her waist elicited a squeak of surprise. He stuck his nose into her still damp hair and breathed in slowly, "Lavender," the vowels slid off his tongue with a thick Scottish lilt.

Isobel rolled her eyes and swatted at his hands playfully, "I'm trying my absolute hardest to prepare a proper meal for you even though I burn toast before it enters the oven," she turned around to give him a soft peck, "So, if you fancy an eatable stew, you ought to stop distracting me!" She pushed him towards the door with both hands on his chest, "Shoo!"

He complied with a chuckle, "Yes milady," and went to the sitting room to mix himself a drink. A whiskey on ice with a splash of water to take the sting off. He leaned over the cart of liquor and began to hum the tune he had sung for Isobel two weeks ago in this very room. The drink was gone in four swallows and he brought the stout glass to the light wondering if he should have another to wash away his nerves. Tonight was the night.

He suddenly panicked and patted his coat pockets for the square box. It was discovered in his breast pocket and extracted. He opened the box and watched the light dance on the polished diamonds. It had been his mother's, gifted to him on her death-bed with the demand that he must find a woman more beautiful to him than the diamond itself. Isobel was definitely that, but perhaps she didn't think the same of him. Many nights he would lie awake after she had drifted to sleep. Thoughts of losing the woman in his arms swirled through his head. Somehow those nightmares were always caused by her overcoming the loss of her son, and no longer needing him for comfort. On one of these somber nights though, a decision had been made. The decision to ask for her hand, and be of some comfort to her, a husband, as long as she needed him. A gift of sorts, because his love for her masked whatever pain ending their relationship may cause him.

This didn't ease his nerves however. He made another drink.

She came in, leaning in the doorway as she used her free hand to pull the clip from her hair. Her now dry waves fell around her shoulders, "Dinner is ready, my love," she had taken this nickname from him, so they would match. Isobel held the clip in her mouth, pulling her hair back again to re-pin it.

"Keep it down. It's a treat to see you like this, completely comfortable, in your robe with your hair down. You look beautiful," he took another swig of his drink and exhaled loudly at the sting in his throat.

She let her hair fall and put the clip in her robe pocket with a flattered smile. "Would you mind making me one?" she pointed to the cart.

"My pleasure, but I think the wine is in the kitchen,"

"No, I'd prefer whatever your drinking. Whiskey?"

"Sure," he looked at her questioningly shaking his head.

He opened the decanter of water and she stopped him, "I'll take it straight," he raised his brows at her slang.

Dumping a few cubes of ice into the drink, he poured the whiskey and handed her the glass. Isobel downed the entire thing in one swig, slamming the glass to the little cart. "I'm hoping that will make my cooking taste better," she giggled at her own joke, and turned to leave.

"You never cease to amaze me Isobel," he was in complete awe of her, and as they walked to the dining room he wondered what other sides of herself she had yet to reveal.

"And I suppose I never shall," her voice was accompanied by the faint sound of music in a far-off room.

Richard entered the room behind Isobel and gasped ever so slightly. The electricity was off and the only thing illuminating the room were the two Gothic-style candelabras in the center of the table. The stew was already in bowls at their place mats and he silently noted-with a wide grin-that his chair at the head of the table was angled in to Isobel's seat to the right. Fresh cut flowers were in vases near their plates and the source of the soft instrumental music he had heard earlier was a phonograph similar to the one at the Abbey. This was perfection. This was more than he could have wished for the night that he asked to borrow the rest of her life.

"When did you do all this?" he asked pulling her into his arms.

She blushed and bit her bottom lip, always humble. "It wasn't that difficult really. I have quite a bit of spare time while you're at the hospital,"

"It seems you were right, my dearest. You never shall cease to amaze," he pulled her closer kissing her passionately thinking that soon he would be able to introduce her as his fiancé. Both arms wrapped around her, he pulled her closer, entwining one hand in her soft tresses. Isobel put a hand on either side of his face, exploring him fully with her velvety tongue. She pulled back only to return her kisses to his neck, sucking, kissing and nipping lightly, making him groan. Suddenly she felt something long and hard pressing against her thigh.

"Oh," she squeaked.

They parted quickly and he coughed nervously. "I...umm...I apologize my lo-Isobel,"

"I thought we talked about this unnecessary apologizing. It's an ego boost to know exactly how much I effect you," she kissed him lightly as if not to set off any more alarms. "Also, let your body know that I would take it up on it's offer if this stubborn mind would let us," she tapped a finger to his forehead before leaning in for another kiss in which she cupped his growing manhood firmly. He groaned and stepped back.

"Sorry! Sorry! I suppose it's my turn to apologize," she giggled and backed away to a safe distance.

Ever the gentleman, Richard followed her to her seat, pulling it back for her to sit in. He took a seat himself and followed her lead, unfolding his napkin and beginning to eat.

"So how was your day at the hospital? Has Mr. J-"

"Will you marry me?" she had been too concentrated on her dinner to notice that he had left his chair to crouch-on one knee-on the floor.

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**Before the story ends, it will be bumped up to an "M" rating, so I think I'll go ahead and change the rating with the next chapter. If word smut isn't your thing, just trust that I shall write it in the most classy and loving way. In order to not lose this in the M-void of Downton fic please follow me or the story! Thank you so much for reading and for all your moving reviews! **


	6. Chapter 6

_"So how was your day at the hospital? Has Mr. J-"_

_"Will you marry me?" she had been too concentrated on her dinner to notice that he had left his chair to crouch-on one knee-on the floor._

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"Yes," she breathed out, without thinking, "Wait! YES!" her eyes got big as she processed what he was asking. The polished silver fork fell to her plate with a _clang. _"Yes, yes, yes!" she stood up and gave him her hand. The ring slid on easily, a perfect fit out of sheer luck. "Oh, Richard. It's perfect! And you're perfect," Her eyes were sparkling with tears in the candlelight.

Richard used her hand as leverage to pull himself up and into her arms for a deep and passionate kiss, tongues exploring. He pulled back and she noticed that his cheeks were wet from her tears. When she brought her hand up to wipe his soft cheeks, he caught it, placing a kiss to the glistening ring. "I love you more than anything Isobel," he dropped her hand and leaned in until their foreheads were resting against each other.

She stared straight into the blue pools she often found herself drowning in, "And I love you, so much. You have saved me Richard," her tears began anew as his smile dropped. Pulling back in confusion, "What is it, my love?"

"What do you mean?" he lied with a fake smile.

"Just now, I've said something wrong, haven't I?"

"Of course not," was another lie.

"I said I loved you," she took another step back as it sunk in exactly what was bothering him, "You don't believe me, do you?"

"No, Isob-"

"No, Richard!" she mocked him, "I refuse to spend the rest of my life with a man who is simply waiting for me to leave," her hands became as much of the conversation as her words as they flew around her in the air.

He was frozen with no response, which gave her time to think. This wasn't the way to get what she wanted from him. Bickering didn't prove love. She took a step forward, putting both hands on his cheeks and forcing him to stare into her eyes, to see the truth there.

"When my Matthew left, I went through a period of wondering why I was alive. What kept me here? Then you show up, and it all makes sense. It was you," tears began to fall, "You give me a purpose," she placed a hard, firm kiss to his lips, her face scrunching up with emotion. "You are my life," her speech impaired by thick tears.

In that moment he began to believe her, seeing the truth in her eyes. "Oh my darling," he pulled her into him with force, a hand behind her head as he kissed her properly, the way he claimed a woman like her "ought to be kissed".

* * *

Isobel was panting heavily now, her fingers tugging on Richard's short graying hair with an arched back. She was suddenly very grateful she had suppressed her propriety long enough to allow this. Her back was completely off the bed now, eyes fluttering closed. Looking down to see his eyes locked on her, Richard's intensity sparked the beginning of her release. It washed over her like nothing she had ever felt before. She was being pulled farther and farther down by Richard's hot mouth until she was willingly drowning in pleasure. Her moans were soft from subconscious restraint. Slowly it faded as Richard eased her down from her high, her body relaxing. Isobel rubbed lazy circles over the back of his head, eyes still closed

Snapping up quickly she sniffed the air around her "The cake!" she squealed, picking her robe up from the floor, adjusting it as she ran down to the steps and into the smoke-filled kitchen.

Following close behind, Richard came into the kitchen waving his arms and coughing as his fiancé opened the oven to pull out the completely singed dessert and drop it onto the stove with a bang.

"How I ever became a nurse with these cooking skills is beyond me," she said somberly, mourning the cake with a cute pout.

Richard chuckled, crossing the room to open the backdoor and a few windows. Turning away from her scorched treat she pulled him into her arms. The closeness reminded her that their bedroom business wasn't over. Pushing herself up on her toes, she kissed him slowly, a tease. Her slender hand ran down to cup his growing manhood.

Reluctantly pulling back he scolded her like a child, "No, no! There is a reason you remembered the cake. It's fate," he joked raising his hands to heaven.

"Richard, please, you cannot do," she searched for the least inappropriate word, "_that _and not expect me to want the same,"

"I don't, my dearest," he kissed her forehead, "I shouldn't have done that,"

Isobel pulled away and look at him hurt, "Whatever do you mean, 'shouldn't have done that?"

"Oh, my love, stop that," he joked, cradling her confused face, "I only meant that I should not have given in so easily after promising I wouldn't," he gave her a quick peck and pulled away to see her staring back, doe-eyed.

"You are a great mystery, Richard Clarkson," she said flatly before untangling herself to make tea.

* * *

They sat on opposite sides of the thin servant's table, hands intertwined in the center. Isobel's free hand stirred tea idly as her mind wandered and her blood boiled. Staring over Richard's shoulder and out the window she saw him carrying her up to the bedroom bridal-style.

* * *

Richard draped her over the bed like a delicate flower. Sitting beside her hips, he leaned in to kiss behind her ear, "You are more beautiful than the reddest rose," he sucked on her earlobe and she arched her back, a light moan escaping her lips.

He pulled at the tie of her robe, loosening the silk enough to expose her pert breasts. He cupped one softly with a gentle hand, making his way down her neck with his warm kisses. Dipping past her collarbone, he placed a kiss on her nipple before taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the peak. He looked up to see her eyes squeezed shut, a quiet whimper escaping the back of her throat. He moved to the other breast. Letting the robe fall against the bed, she was exposed to him completely for the second time that day.

"What are you doing?" she snapped up quickly as his kisses dipped down past her naval.

"Sssshhhh," he hushed against her most intimate place. The heat of his breath was enough to make her fall back, eyes squeezed shut again.

His tongue stroked either side of her inner thigh, before moving to the wetness within. Kissing her little nub lightly, he tested the waters. Another whimper, and he proceeded, licking up and back down her intimacy. By taking her nub into his mouth and sucking, he caused her hips to buck. He chuckled against her and the vibrations threw her over the edge, making her moan aloud. Richard slowly pushed in a single digit, massaging from the inside. This combination didn't last long before she lost all control. Isobel, panting heavily now, weaved her fingers into Richard's short graying hair, her back arching.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" he cocked his head and stared into her glazed over eyes.

Isobel shook away her day-dream, "What being your wife will entail,"

"And is it worth it to accept such a one-sided bargain?"

"I'm not quite sure, I suppose that's up to the one getting the poor end. So the ball is in your court," she joked, raising the china to her smirked lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Readers: **

**I know these chapters are spaced out at an agonizing rate, but there is only one left before I bring this love-fest to an end. I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others. I hope to get the last installment to you as soon as possible. It will be a "honeymoon" period for them, so expect some smut there. If after that you're having withdraws, you should go read my in-progress Carson/Hughes fic, "_Letters of_ _Correspondence"_. It is updated much quicker, and has a more unique plot line. ****Thank you for following me this far.**

* * *

Morning light flooded in through the sheer drapery, illuminating Isobel's soft features to Richard. Seeing her like this, so peaceful and still made his heart ache with love and longing. Longing for so much. Longing to see her this carefree always. Longing to protect her so that she may live her life like this, off-guard with steady breathing. Longing to reach out and touch her soft cheek before pulling her tight against him.

Doing just that, Richard ran his fingertips across her soft cheek, reveling in warmth and natural rosy color. He leaned in to kiss her cheek softly, wanting to worship her with his touch, while allowing her to sleep at the same time. Lying back down, Richard scooted closer to her until his stomach was pushed to her back. He wrapped an arm around her, shielding her from the world, inside his warm embrace.

Still asleep, Isobel subconsciously snuggled into him, and Richard smiled widely. He breathed in her scent, lavender and honey. He used the hand not wrapped around her to rub her hairline from above, tickling lightly and placing soft, warm kisses into her hair.

Isobel stirred in her sleep as another ray of light entered from the window. Sighing deeply, she turned around in his arms, eyes still closed to greet him groggily, "Good morning my love,"

"Good morning to you, my beautiful woman," he kissed the tip of her nose, eliciting another sigh of contentment.

"Richard?" she asked, eyes opening slowly to adjust to the low-light.

"Yes, my darling,"

"Having nothing to do today, I see no reason to leave this bed," the words came out slowly in her tired state.

Richard chuckled, coming close enough to touch his nose to hers, eyes closed, "I shall stay as long as you like, I'm not needed at the hospital today,"

"Are you sure? Because that would mean staying forever," she whispered against his lips before leaning in for the first kiss of the day, a long lazy one with nothing but love.

Pulling back Richard told her in a low, embarrassed tone, "I really am sorry about last night, I'm not sure what came over me,"

"Richard, I know exactly what came over you. It is the same feeling that has overcome me for weeks. So, when I saw it in your eyes I saw it fit not to stop you. It was rather selfish of me to go against your wishes. But, please do not apologize. You gave the best night of my life. You asked me to spend the rest of my life with the only man I have ever truly loved, then proceeded to generously give me two glorious things I've never had and ask for nothing in return. Do not apologize for any of that, my love,"

"What do you mean _two_ things?" he could only recall the one act he preformed on her.

"Richard, what you did last night, I've never experienced before, and that..." she trailed off embarrassed, "nevermind.."

"No, tell my darling, I want to know," Richard pulled her hands from where they rested on his chest to kiss her palms.

Closing her eyes, to make it easier, she opened up, "I've never felt that..._thing..._you made me feel last night. I mean, I had read about it in medical journals but it had never happened,"

"Oh...you mean..." he suddenly understood that she was talking about her powerful release. "Well...I am honored to have given you that gift,"

"And it was a wonderful gift," she said huskily, leaning in for a more passionate kiss, completely awake now. She opened her mouth to him, wanting to feel him fully. To feel his warm, hot mouth anywhere she could get it. It was as if she were addicted to it after last night.

Richard knew her body well enough to tell what she was aiming for when she pressed her chest to his mid-kiss. He pulled back, letting out ragged breaths, "I know it is hard to wait, but now that we're engaged it won't be much longer before you have me the way you want, and I you. Just hold out a bit longer my love,"

Isobel stared into his deep blue pools, overcome with love anytime they locked on her, "But, Richard I can't wait anymore. I cannot bring myself to wait to touch you, to wait to put a band around your finger. I cannot wait much longer to call you my husband,"

"Neither can I, but we must," Richard leaned in to peck her lips softly, "I understand. I really do,"

"We don't have to though. We could go to Ripon this afternoon and you would be mine by sunset," Isobel bit her lip nervously, knowing this was very forward and impatient of her.

"Oh, my darling. You cannot imagine how often I've thought of that, but do you not think it would be deceitful? Our courtship was private and we haven't announced the engagement. What would a secret marriage look like this soon after-" she held a slender finger to his lips, silencing him.

"All I care about is you. I'm not too occupied with the opinion of others, and the only person I would see fit to tell is Mary. We could be married today, stay at an inn as long as we like and tell the others when the time comes," she suggested with an excited voice, her hopes sky high.

Richard kissed Isobel's finger before pulling her hand down to cover his heart, "You know I would have married you the day we met, but are you sure this is what _you_ want?"

"Richard," she shook her head, wanting so bad for him to understand the force of her love for him, "Spending the rest of my life with you is perhaps the only thing I've ever been sure of," she kissed him hard and long, letting a tear fall. She cursed her embarrassing emotions for coming at the least opportune of times.

Richard pulled back to rub his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss they often shared, "Then I will gladly allow you to make me the luckiest of men,"

She sighed and snuggled in closer, more comfortable now knowing that tonight they would be sharing their love in every form.

"I would love to lie here with you as I promised, but my stomach won't stop reminding me that we didn't finish our dinner last night,"

"As I recall someone wanton man rudely interrupted my top-notch cooking to ask a question he should have known the answer to," Isobel joked poking an accusing finger to his bare chest.

"I could always revoke my offer," he quipped back with a smirk.

"You wouldn't dare," she said huskily leaning in for a kiss passionate enough to elicit an animistic groan from Richard. "Now get up so I can make you another one of my world famous meals,"

* * *

After a breakfast of leftover roast on bread, Isobel sent Richard back to his cottage with a kiss. She climbed the stairs back to her room to pack a weekend bag as she had told Richard to do. After tossing the necessities into her bag, she packed only one skirt and shirt, figuring they wouldn't be spending much time out of the inn. Moving to sleepwear, she opened the drawer containing her nightgowns and pushed around to the bottom of the drawer. Pulling out what she had been digging for, Isobel held the sheer purple negligee to the light. Staring at it, slightly scared, she realized just how short and revealing it was. Before she could talk herself out of it, Isobel tossed the lingerie in her trunk, hoping Richard would be as surprised by her wearing it as she was.


	8. Chapter 8

"I do." Isobel whispered, letting her tears fall without remorse as she stared into the eyes of the man she was marrying.

"_I love you_" Richard mouthed with a huge smile as the justice declared them husband and wife. He lifted her dainty hand to place a kiss to her knuckles.

"Congratulations," the older man said, turning to pick up the legal papers and handing them over for each to sign. After they had, they left the courthouse hand-in-hand, Isobel still crying.

Richard helped her into a cab he had called earlier, waiting on the curb. He got into the backseat with her, giving the driver the name of their inn before pulling her into his arms. He leaned back and cradled her head against his chest. "Mrs. Isobel Clarkson," he whispered in her ear, eliciting another sob.

Isobel looked up at him with wet doe eyes before putting a hand behind his head to pull their lips together roughly. "I have never been happier," she whispered against his lips between kisses. For the first time, Richard kissed her with abandon. He didn't care that the driver was feet away or that they could easily be seen through the windows. This was his wife, the woman he loved more than anyone or anything, and he could care less who knew. Isobel moaned and went limp, letting her husband take control.

Minutes later, the driver cleared his throat and the two pulled apart to realize that they were stopped in front of the inn.

"Oh, thank you," Richard said curtly as the short man jumped out of the car to remove their trunks.

"Richard…" Isobel turned to him with an embarrassed look, a deep blush on her face.

"Your blush is charming, my love." He kissed her forehead innocently and motioned towards the door of the inn. Opening it for her, Richard went to the desk to confirm the room he had called in about.

The woman behind the counter handed Richard a key and told them "Congratulations."

Richard nodded his thanks and requested that a platter of sandwiches be left outside their room in an hour or so. Isobel's blush renewed itself and she looked down to fiddle with a piece of lace on her rarely worn cream dress. It was the closest thing she owned to a wedding dress, and she refused to waste any time buying something new.

Richard handed the key to the cab driver who went up the stairs first, carrying their bags. Once in the room, he tipped the chauffeur and shut the door. Isobel turned to take in the room. It was much smaller than her master suit at Crawley House. The perfect size to keep them comfortably close all week, she thought. The color palette was warm and rich. An entire wall was dedicated to beautiful wood-paneled windows overlooking a garden the owner's tended to and rolling hills beyond that. Staring out at the flowers she noticed the sky slowly fading to a pretty pink color. "Oh, Richard," she pulled him from where he sat on the bed, undoing his cuff links. "Come watch the sunset with me,"

He opened the windows for her and sat on the corner of the bed, close enough to the window to feel the wind blow in. Isobel slid down into his lap, letting his strong arms encircle her. She traced patterns on his bare forearms, eyes locked on to the watercolor being painted before them. Leaning into him fully she pulled his arms tighter around her.

Richard chuckled, "I don't want to squash you, my love,"

"I just want to be close to you. So close," she whispered leaning her head on his shoulder.

As the sun disappeared behind the peak of a tree covered hill, Isobel turned in his arms to push him onto the bed. He gasped in surprise as she began assaulting his mouth with her smooth tongue. "I love you," she moaned and whispered whenever she got the chance.

"I love you too, you little minx!" he pushed her back with another chuckle. He had never seen her like this, so hungry for his touch. "But, I'd like to freshen up first. We have been traveling all day,"

"I suppose I can wait a while longer, but I'm going into the washroom to change, and when I come out… your time is up!" Isobel told him with mock sternness. When she leaned over to open her trunk, the lavender nightgown was staring back at her. Isobel pulled it to her chest and walked to the bathroom with her back to Richard, not wanting to give away any hints.

* * *

"Oh my God," Isobel whispered to herself, turning in the mirror. She had forgotten just how short and sheer the negligee was. The thought of changing was tempting. She could easily wrap herself in a towel and scurry to her trunk to pick out another nightgown. But she couldn't. She wouldn't. She had to show Richard that she trusted him, no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel being fully exposed. Before she could talk herself out of it, Isobel flung the door open and stepped out into the glow of the candles Richard had lit.

Isobel stood there in all her glory, biting her lip and fidgeting under his gaze. Richard stood up from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, taking in every inch of her - Committing this beauty to memory. Her hair was unpinned and falling in waves around her shoulders. Her skin was glowing a golden color in the light, and her nightdress. God, that dress. The straps were only a finger's width in size, the transparency showing off the curve of her pert breasts and the shadow of her rosy nipples. There was a small puff between her legs where he knew blonde curls grew, and the lace hem fell just above her knee.

As he stared at her shamelessly, she suddenly wondered if she wasn't appealing to him. If he thought it foolish for a woman her age to be parading around in a skimpy negligee.

"My God, Isobel..." He looked as if he could cry, taking a step forward with each word he told her, "You are too beautiful for me." When he got close enough, he brought a finger up to trace the neckline of her dress. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her head back, mouth wide with a silent plea. Putting a hand behind her head, he captured her open mouth, exploring with his hot, eager tongue. He walked them to the bed blindly until her the back of her knees hit the mattress. As she fell onto the bed, he released her lips and moved to her neck, sucking at a sensitive spot in the crook.

As he dipped below her collarbone to kiss the tops of her breasts, Isobel tensed below him. Richard pulled back immediately. "What's wrong, my love?"

"There's nothing wrong," she lied, eyes closed.

"Tell me," he whispered on her chest, resuming his kisses.

"It has been a while...and I...I'm just... I don't know if..."

"Shhhhh," he whispered on her nipple, making her shiver in pleasure. He kissed the peak through the fabric, leaving a wet circle where his mouth was. "I love you, and you love me." Moving back to her face, he kissed her lightly. "Open your eyes," he pleaded lovingly, resting his forehead on hers.

Isobel complied, staring back into his blue pools, something in them inspiring her. "I love you...my husband" she told him before pulling him in for a passionate kiss, racked with abandon. Suddenly, the confident woman who had exposed herself in the bath yesterday had returned.

"And I love you, my beautiful wife." He said between kisses before pulling away to move to the breast he hadn't lavished yet. Isobel whined in pleasure as he kissed and nibbled at the sensitive flesh. Grabbing the hem of her nightgown, Richard shimmied it up her body and over her head.

Pulling back to stare at her exposed flesh, Richard sighed in contentment. "I don't deserve such perfection,"

Before Isobel could protest, she felt her husband's fingers run up and down her sex. Richard kissed down her anticipation-filled stomach. As his mouth neared the place where his fingers were still exploring, Isobel squirmed with impatience. Placing a kiss to her most sensitive spot, he whispered on her hot flesh, "Do you trust me?"

"OH! Yesss," she whined as he licked up and down her intimacy.

"Sit up," he pleaded. When she complied, he unlatched from her sex to move behind her. Richard quickly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the floor. Leaning against the pillows, he pulled Isobel's back flush to his chest, bringing both hands around to massage her breasts. Squeezing her eyes shut and letting her head fall back, Isobel moaned softly.

Richard began tracing pattern-less circles around her breasts and down her stomach, creeping closer to her thighs with each stroke. When he came close enough to make her squirm again he took one of her hands where it lie resting on his thigh and maneuvered it, covered by his own, between her thighs.

She stiffened, "Richard...I don't know…"

"Trust me. If you start to feel uncomfortable we'll stop."

Isobel nodded, biting her lip as Richard manipulated her forefinger to trace the sensitive nub between her hips. When he was sure she had the rhythm down, he moved his finger from above to beside hers, tracing alongside to increase the pressure. Just as her panting become erratic, he took her hand in his again, scooting her same finger down to her opening.

Richard gently pushed it in, and she gasped loudly.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, completely willing to let his experiment go.

"N-No...no," she moaned, turning into his neck to kiss and suck whatever flesh she could reach.

Richard added a finger of his own, guiding her pace.

"Oh, Richard," Isobel panted as they both pushed in and out steadily. He curled inside of her, urging her to do the same. A singe of pride washed over him when she trusted him enough to follow his lead.

Whimpered loudly, Isobel twisted to suck on his neck, succumbing to her powerful release. "I love you," she whined repeatedly.

When he pulled their fingers out, she twisted around to kiss him with urgency, letting her tongue slip past his lips. Her hands slid down his front to work the buttons of his trousers blindly.

She pushed them as far as she could reach without releasing his lips. Using her feet to move them the rest of the way, she reached into his undershorts, wrapping her fingers around his hard, velvety length.

Richard groaned loudly, flipping their positions to kick off his pants and push his undershorts to the floor with them. Latching back onto her lips, he positioned himself at her entrance.

"I love you, Isobel Clarkson," he whispered against her lips, pushing in slowly.

Isobel's head fell back with a loud sigh as she reveled in the pleasure of being filled so deliciously. Her emotion got the best of her as she realized just how intimate this was and just how much love she felt for the man she was truly _connected _with now. She didn't attempt to hide the tears from him anymore; it was tears that had brought them together in the first place.

"Am I hurting you?" Richard asked, terrified of displeasing her.

"No, it feels wonderful. I just love you so very much," she told him, stretching up to kiss him.

"And I you," he told her, pulling back only to push in again, starting a rhythm slow enough to give them both time to enjoy each other before it was over.

Soon the combination of Isobel's small pants and her nails raking down his back had Richard thrusting erratically. Nearing his release, he leaned down to kiss and suck at her breasts, wanting so badly for her to follow him over the edge. Before he could help it, he lost control, groaning into her chest. That was all it took to send Isobel tumbling after him, crying his name softly in his ear.

Rolling off of his wife, Richard pulled Isobel closer. She settled her head onto his chest, listening to his steady breathing and slowing heartbeat. "That was well worth the wait," she told him, kissing the graying hair on his chest.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, pulling her tight against him to kiss the top of her head, "I love you Mrs. Clarkson,"

"I love you, Mr. Clarkson, and you cannot imagine how wonderful it feels to finally be called that."

* * *

**Well, kiddos...I suppose that's the end. I know there were quite a few mistakes in here and that things felt a bit rushed, but I rather fancied it myself and I hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for sticking around this long, and I hope you'll leave me one last review with your final thoughts on all this silliness I've given you. If you're having withdrawals go read my new Carson/Hughes fic. It has a much more developed story line with better grammar and a good dose of believable: conflicts, fluff, love, angst and maybe even some smut. I'm hoping this one will turn into a saga of sorts and last a big longer. And I PROMISE you'll ship those two by the end. Thank you again, my loves!**


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